This is my first Star Trek fic, and first fic in just about forever, so please just... try not to judge me too harshly. I know a ton of people have done things like this, and before you read, I'm just going to tell you that there are no promises as to this being original. This is just me indulging in the hurt!Jim fic that I've been wanting to write for a while...

Enjoy?

edit: soo I didn't expect anyone at all to like this, and I did not come prepared, so I have edited the first chapter to make it more detailed and stuff. I must admit that I was mildly pleased that a few people were interested. Thanks guys!

So, here he was.

In the middle of a friggin ice planet, of all things. He'd had a bit of a fall-out with his love of snow and ice after Delta Vega. Yeah, you might say he wasn't particularly happy about the situation. He might've been a bit happier had he been wearing something more substantial than his standard yellow command shirt.

"Frickin useless crew, stranding me on a godforsaken frozen rock…," Captain James T. Kirk muttered under his icy breath, hugging his useless Starfleet standard top against him. He didn't have anything to shield himself from the weather - and when he said not anything, he meant nothing. No jacket, no blanket, not even a fucking phaser he might be able to use to heat up a rock or something. All he could really do was hope that his faithful crew would remain faithful and find him quickly.

To be perfectly honest, he had no idea how he had ended up here, of all places. Not ten minutes ago, he had been on the bridge, surrounded by alpha crew. He'd literally been in his chair for twenty minutes before he had felt the familiar feeling of his body being transported somewhere. He'd had just enough time to lock eyes with Commander Spock before he had materialized here. In the pure, everlasting white of an ice planet. The Captain had no idea how far away the Enterprise even was, if it was minutes away or days, and worst of all he didn't know if his crew could get to him before he succumbed to the cold. He assumed that one of his or Starfleet's enemies had beamed him here, but how could he know? His comm wasn't working, obviously, and no angry aliens had confronted him yet (but that wasn't to say it wasn't a possibility, because it definitely was, with his record).

Jim sighed, shivering violently. He needed to stop thinking about how he'd gotten here and how he'd get away and start focusing on how to survive for the time being. That was what he was best at, right? Surviving… He'd get through this. He always did.

He pulled from his mind everything he knew about surviving in the snow. Keep moving, don't get wet, dig a cave in the snow, keep yourself warm, keep warm, keep warm, warmwarmwarmwar- okay, okay. So he'd try to dig a little cave and keep himself warm that way, maybe? At least moving around that much would keep his blood flowing.

Except that - he didn't have gloves, and he sure as hell wasn't digging with his bare hands (which were, at the moment, stuffed in his armpits). Thinking fast like the genious he was, he took off his shoes, ripped off his socks, and then stuffed his feet back in the boots before his toes could freeze off. Then he wrapped the socks around his hands and began chopping at the snow.

After a few fruitless attempts in various different areas, he leaned back, huffing. "Damn it," he snarled. "Fucking ice; fucking planet." The ice was too hard to dig into and his arms were starting to fight him. It was too damn cold here. Jim sighed, peering around once again at the landscape, hoping for a snowdrift or a wall or something that might have a cave or that might be soft enough to make one - but his eyelids were getting heavy with all the frost that was sticking to his lashes, and maybe I'd better close them, he thought, so my eyeballs don't freeze, because that might be a problem. He was shaking, trembling with the cold, but those too had slowly gotten weaker as his body began to give up.

But no, he couldn't give up. He was James Fucking Kirk! He'd never let anything as wimpy as snow get to him before, and he wasn't about to now. He growled at himself internally and kept himself moving, shuffling his feet, rubbing his hands against his arms, doing the occasional hop. Come on, man, you can handle this. It won't be long until your crew gets here. They'll get you out of this mess.

And he believed it, because his crew had never let him down.

After a while, (well actually, how long had it been? He wasn't quite sure anymore. Time had started blending together) he stopped feeling the cold.

He knew this wasn't good, but he didn't care. It just felt so nice not to feel the jaws of freezing ice clamping down on him anymore.

He started to relax. He was pretty tired. Maybe he should lie down. He thought he might fall asleep on his feet, and that probably wouldn't be too comfortable. Maybe he should just sleep. Lie down and go to sleep. That might be best, he decided. Yes, he would sleep. He was very tired, after all.

That's it, Captain Kirk. Sleep.

He slept.